


Kings Among Runaways

by VivaRocksteady



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Genre: (not graphic), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Street Kids, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jessica was not adopted, Kimmy escaped, Netflix Originals Crossover, Underage Drinking, Underage Prostitution, or they would if they weren't committing it, they fight crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6674041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivaRocksteady/pseuds/VivaRocksteady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimmy Schmidt escaped the bunker while still a teenager, and Jessica Jones was never adopted. Now they're best friends and street kids!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings Among Runaways

**Author's Note:**

> This is largely because I mistook the actress who played Young Jessica for the actress who played Xanthippe. 
> 
> The title comes from the Decemberists "On the Bus Mall", which is part of the playlist I made which can be found here: http://8tracks.com/tallycola/kings-among-runaways

Jessica Jones didn't actually _know_ that much about Kimmy Smith except that she was a terrible dancer, she knew several _It’s Patsy!_ episodes by heart, and that her mother was a real piece of work.  
  
She also knew, from deduction, that Kimmy had spent time in a cult, but the details were never nailed down. Jessica had a relentless curiosity, but Kimmy was a temperamental creature that had to be approached very carefully. Ask the wrong question and she would clam up, like a little kid holding their breath, face all scrunched up in displeasure. Other times, out of nowhere, Kimmy would reflect strangely on some random observation.  
  
"In the bunker," she'd start, or, "The Reverend -" but the story was always a ridiculous thing about clapping games or braids or a tip for rugged survivalism. A “drink your own piss” kind of thing. Kimmy didn't look like the kind of person who would drink their own piss under any circumstance, but Jessica was learning to not underestimate her.  
  
If asked directly about her past, Kimmy gave no answers to where this bunker was or how long she had been there. But Jessica knew, from deduction, that the bunker was in her hometown in Indiana, and she was there for a year, from about a month before she turned fifteen.  
  
They would sleep in cold doorways, huddled close, clutching their backpacks and each other protectively. Kimmy always knew some secret about warming up, something doubtlessly learned in the bunker (which, Jessica guessed, got cold?).  
  
Kimmy didn't look like she could survive on the street, all frostbitten skin and messy red hair, guileless grin and huge eyes. Jessica couldn't help but feel like she herself was putting on an affectation when Kimmy was around. Jessica wore her street kid persona like the skin of an animal, protective and fierce, but it was girly Kimmy in her pinks and florals and candy bracelets who was unbreakable.  
  
"But you're so tough!" Kimmy said when Jessica shared feelings in a rare moment. They were in their diner, nursing the coffees and overcooked eggs the middle-aged waitress gave them out of pity. They were still drunk from the night before, which is the only reason Jessica was sharing feelings.  
  
Kimmy grinned at her, her goofy _Jeeze Jessica don't you know ANYTHING_ face, shoulders up in excitement. “As soon as I saw you I thought you looked so cool,” she breathed. “You look like _Xena, Warrior Princess!_ Plus, you know—”  
  
“Yeah,” Jessica said a bit too loudly, cutting Kimmy off. They didn't directly speak about her _gifts_. While Jessica deduced the whereabouts of Kimmy's bunker, she was sure Kimmy only had a vague notion about Jessica’s foster homes.  
  
Kimmy leaned forward in the booth, a flush rising in her cheeks from the cold. “When are you going to show me?”  
  
——  
  
Jessica didn’t know she was different until months after she woke from her coma. Sure she broke things - glasses, combs, the sink off the wall, the door off the frame. Her first foster home was flimsy overall, though. She was angry, who wouldn’t be in her situation? But it’s not like she ever intended to destroy things. She didn’t hurt the other kids in the home, even when she wanted to, but she came to realize she could. She could’ve hurt anyone.  
  
The weird thing was that nobody even blinked at her differences. Maybe they were used to angry kids destroying everything they touched, and they never explicitly witnessed Jessica destroying _with a touch._ They wrote her off as a problem child and sent her on. So did the next place.  
  
For years she would wonder why she let her third foster father grope and beat her for so long before she struck back. It didn’t even occur to her to try. Now, on the streets, even the quickest glance from a grown man would send her into a rage, and if she was alone she might punch a hole through a brick wall or hurl a news box down an empty alley. Around others, though, she just swallowed her anger. Maybe it was the same fear of attention that stopped her from beating her foster father earlier.  
  
In any case, it didn’t last, and one day she beat him to a bloody pulp. Killed him, maybe, but before anyone else could walk in on them, she packed her meagre belongings, leapt out the window, and flew for the first time.  
  
——  
  
Life was mostly about finding warm places to loiter, warm places to sleep, and something to eat. They sat in the library a lot. Jessica figured out a way to log in to the internet without library cards, but mostly they would read or nap until they got kicked out. The diner was good if their kind-hearted waitress was on, but there were few other 24 hour places they could go. It was always better to have some money on hand.  
  
They made most of their living panhandling, which is not how Jessica had started her homeless career. She had picked pockets and shoplifted all the way from New York to Ohio, and never once had a twinge of conscience about it until she met Kimmy. The world had taken every single thing from Jessica, so what did it matter what she took in return?  
  
Jessica met Kimmy when the other girl was attempting to pay for her hot dog with an assortment of change and the cart guy was giving her a hard time. There was a weird, new instinct in Jessica that wanted her to step in, say “is he bothering you?”, a stand up for the little guy kind of thing. She had never felt that way before. Her fear of attention won out, though, and she hung back, watching.  
  
“Well, I guess I’m a quarter short,” the skinny, wide-eyed redhead conceded. “I'm real sorry to have wasted your time. Maybe I could just have a bun with some onions on it?”  
  
Jessica rolled her eyes, but then something really strange happened. The hot dog guy, who had been sneering down at the girl, blinked, and sighed, and said "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm having a bad day. Take it, it's on the house.”  
  
Jessica blinked in confusion, but the little redhead just beamed. "Thanks Mister!" she chirped, and yes, she actually used the word _mister_. "I'll tell everybody about your cart. And I'll come back when I have more money, I promise!"  
  
Then she literally skipped off with her hot dog. When she passed Jessica she stopped in her tracks. "Wow!" she exclaimed around a mouthful of hot dog. "I love your cool jacket!"  
  
Jessica wasn't sure what to do with this Little Orphan Annie bullshit, but all the street kids in Columbus ran into each other eventually, and they had to look out for each other. Kimmy was better company than some of the other kids, and she never wanted anything from Jessica.  
  
Of course Kimmy knew Jessica stole, but she never judged her or nagged her about anything. "You shouldn't take what isn't yours," is all she said, once, matter-of-factly. She lived with such conviction that Jessica felt bad stealing when Kimmy was around. Being with Kimmy was like standing in a sunbeam, everything was warm and bright and generous, and Jessica couldn't hide the parts of here that were corrupt. It was easier to try to be better.  
  
She never wanted Kimmy to see her destroy with a touch.  
  
So they panhandled, and more often than Jessica thought possible, people were kind. Well, no, people were still huge assholes, but when Kimmy responded to aggression with kindness, weird things happened.  
  
Jessica was used to rising to the level of abuse she got, or stooping to it. If some jerk called them names, screamed at them to get jobs, or said something lewd and gross, it was natural for Jessica to respond in kind, to hurl abuse back, or get in a fight (where she had to pull all her punches and let herself get hurt, of course, or risk Kimmy seeing her capacity for destruction).  
  
Kimmy would just use her weird gifts, the power of persuasion she had used on the hot dog vendor, and turn everything around. Suddenly hardened jerks softened, slumped, and gave them change, or bought them food.  
  
Or maybe it was just how they looked. Jessica couldn't help her scowl, she thought, it just rested on her face the way it has since the day she found out her family was dead. Kimmy, it seemed, was impossible to drag down. A well-dressed lady would shake her head in disgust at Jessica and two seconds later look at Kimmy, say "bless your heart" and put paper money in her paper cup.  
  
It was something Jessica thought she should be angry about, but she could never muster up the energy.  
  
They had their share of propositions, of course, and those were the ones that most made the rage rise in Jessica's throat. The first time Kimmy took one of the men up on their offers, Jessica was too surprised to protest.  
  
"I'm not going with you anywhere though," Kimmy said. "And my friend comes too, for safety."  
  
Some of these guys were really gross, the kind of men who didn't take directions from measly girls, but they always listened to Kimmy. They would go to an alley, or stay in their car parked nearby, and Jessica would sit in the backseat and awkwardly stare at her fists while Kimmy used her hands. She only ever used her hands, and for some reason none of the johns ever pushed the issue. She would smile through it, and make eye contact, and act so damn _delighted_ when the johns came that she almost fooled Jessica herself.  
  
“It’s not so bad,” Kimmy explained once, when they were having a meal at the diner, this time fully paid from Kimmy’s earnings. “As long as you’re there I know there won’t be any funny business.”  
  
Jessica was feeling a buzz from the rum they had one of the older kids buy for them. The bottle was tucked in her jacket and she’d sneak it into their drinks when the waitress wasn’t looking, though she was fairly sure the waitress knew and was turning a blind eye. “I hate those guys,” she said. “What if they make you do more one day?”  
  
Kimmy smiled brightly. “Jessicaaaaa!” she chided. “Nobody makes _me_ do anything.”  
  
——  
  
It was winter when the Reverend came looking for Kimmy. They were cuddled up in a bus shelter by the river, probably the coldest place they could have chosen, but their usual spots were taken by unfriendly kids or other elements Jessica had deemed too dangerous. It was a night for staying awake, she decided. And, Kimmy had pointed out, the cold sent a lot of guys out looking for company.  
  
They had never gone with a man to a hotel, but it was cold enough Jessica was afraid Kimmy would consider it. They sat pressed together on the bus shelter bench, and held hands tightly. Kimmy rested her head on Jessica’s shoulder and dozed, and Jessica felt safer knowing the cold would keep her awake and alert.  
  
Kimmy stirred when a van pulled up to a stop in front of their bus shelter and the window rolled down. She immediately perked up and hopped off the bench, skipping up to the van, Jessica only a step behind her.  
  
“Hey buddy what’s—” Kimmy’s voice faltered and cut off as she stopped in her tracks. Jessica had never heard a sound like it before. Kimmy stared in the window, and all Jessica could see was the shadow of a man.  
  
“Hello Sister Kimmy,” he said. “Who’s your friend?”  
  
Kimmy grabbed Jessica’s arm and dragged her down the sidewalk.  
  
“Who is that?” Jessica hissed. “Do you want me to do something?”  
  
Kimmy just shook her head, lips pressed thinly together, the face she always made when she didn’t want to talk.  
  
The van crept alongside them as they walked, faster and faster, along the river.  
  
“Now that’s no way to treat me, Sister Kimmy,” the man continued, his voice smooth and rich. It might be an attractive voice, Jessica thought, if it didn’t belong to a psychopath. “After I came all this way to find you. We were worried. Sister Cyndee thinks you’re dead.”  
  
Kimmy breathed heavily through her nose and her walking faltered. “So what were you going to tell her when you brought me back?”  
  
“I’d tell her it was a miracle. It is a miracle! You were out in the world, a lost little lamb, and I went looking for you like the proverbial shepherd, to bring you back to the fold.” He sounded like he was smiling.  
  
Jessica squeezed Kimmy’s arm reassuringly and prodded her into a run.  
  
“I _saved_ you, Kimmy,” the van matched their pace. “This is no way to show gratitude, and you know Gosh doesn’t smile on those sinners who fail to show gratitude.”  
  
Kimmy made a pained little noise and Jessica pulled her along even faster.  
  
“Get in the van, Kimmy,” he was shouting now. “Your friend can come, too. This world is no place for girls like you, you know that. Now if you’re good and put in some extra hours on the crank, Gosh might decide to forgive you, like I have.”  
  
“Hey, fuck off!” Jessica offered, since Kimmy was biting her lip hard now.  
  
“Such language!” The man’s voice twisted into real anger now, and Kimmy shook. “Sister Kimmy, I am disappointed that you’re associating with such a harlot. Now get in the van!”  
  
“I don’t want to,” Kimmy said weakly, but it was loud enough for the man to hear.  
  
“You don’t _want_ to?” The anger was palpable now, dangerous. It was little wonder Kimmy was so unafraid of the men who gave her money for hand jobs, if this was her comparison point. “I have a hard time believing that, since the last time I saw you you were dripping from your privates!”  
  
The rage that was always in Jessica’s chest shot up into her head now, blinding her. If “Hulking out” had been in the popular vernacular in 1999, it could've been applied to her.  
  
Before the Reverend had even finished his sentence, she had broken away from Kimmy and stepped towards the van. Before he could even process what she was doing, she had lifted the van over her head. She could hear him screaming but she didn’t _really_ hear it, and before the blinding rage subsided, she hurled his van clear into the river. It broke the ice with a mighty, deafening _crack_ that echoed for ages.  
  
Jessica was breathing hard, clenching her fists so hard they were bleeding. The Reverend was still screaming and carrying on as the van slowly sank.  
  
“Jessica… you…” Kimmy’s shoulders were drawn up, her head moving slowly the way it did when she was trying to process something troubling. They watched as the van sank, and the Reverend’s screams faded away.  
  
Jessica glanced down the street. A few more lights were on in buildings that weren’t before, she was sure, and the ice cracking had been loud.  
  
“Jess…” Kimmy started again, but Jessica threw her over her shoulder and flew away.  
  
——  
  
“You can fly,” Kimmy said softly. She was huddled against the access door on the top of the office building Jessica had landed them on, her arms pulled into her coat, shivering.  
  
Jessica paced, likewise warming her hands inside her sleeves. She shrugged. “It’s just, like, jumping,” she offered.  
  
“You’re so strong,” Kimmy’s voice was just as soft. She lowered her face, and pulled her coat up over her ears, like a turtle sinking into its shell.  
  
Jessica walked up to her and watched as Kimmy’s shoulders started shaking. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I hate that he can make me cry,” Kimmy said brokenly, the words barely coherent.  
  
Jessica got down and settled next to her. Kimmy slumped over so she was resting in Jessica’s lap. She looked like a little kid on a playground, arms and head pulled into her pink and purple winter coat, hiding from the world.  
  
“Jessica,” Kimmy sobbed. “I have something to tell you.”  
  
“I know,” Jessica said, and she could feel Kimmy crying harder in her lap. “You didn’t run away. You were kidnapped.”  
  
Kimmy sniffled. “How did you know?”  
  
“They were looking for you. Your mom put up a website. What do you think I was doing on the internet all the time?”

“You were looking me up? You can look people up on the internet?” Kimmy sniffled again and poked her head out of her jacket. “I was just looking at Sailor Moon pictures.”  
  
Jessica smiled weakly, and Kimmy sat up straight, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Why didn’t you go back home when you got away?” she asked.  
  
Kimmy shrugged. “I didn’t really want to see my mom again,” she said, which Jessica didn’t understand. She’d kill to see her mother again. Kimmy’s face broke again and she sobbed anew. “I left them!” she cried.  
  
“The other girls?” Jessica had read about the other missing girls in Durnsville, Indiana. There were too many, of course, but then there were missing girls everywhere.  
  
Kimmy nodded and buried her face in her coat again. “I wanted to take them with me, but once I was out I was too scared to go back. Cyndee…” she sobbed incoherently again. “I was supposed to protect her.”  
  
Jessica let her sob for a little bit, and if she were a different type of person she’d put her arm around her. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “He’s dead, and you’re not. You can still do something about it.” She got to her feet.  
  
Kimmy looked up at her, face broken and wet and freezing. “Where are you going?”  
  
Jessica held out a hand to help her up. “To get bus tickets,” she said, and was reward with Kimmy’s sun-bright grin.


End file.
